The Passion of Draco Malfoy
by Glalie773
Summary: Hermione and Draco are finally together. Hermione realizes something obvious. Draco actually has emotions, other than hatred and irritation. He can be jealous. He can be embarrassed. He can be deliriously happy. And most importantly, he can love. Hermione travels along this unfamiliar path and realizes just how human Draco is.
1. Jealousy

**When Hermione started dating Draco Malfoy, she knew that there would be some bumps in the road, and some things that perhaps would surprise her on the journey. Like Draco Malfoy's feelings. Of course, it would be silly to assume that Draco could only feel irritation and hatred... but new ones are arising, and Hermione doesn't exactly know how to react to them.  
I present to you, the Passion of Draco Malfoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Jealousy

* * *

"_Dinner_?"

Hermione chewed on her lip, scrunching her eyebrows at her breakfast and wincing as Ginny poked at her side. "What about dinner?" she asked, wincing and shoving at the redhead's arm. "Stop poking me."

"You have a _boyfriend_. So why are you going out to dinner with Viktor Krum?"

"Because we're friends, he's in the area for a Quidditch match, and he wants to catch up over dinner. Why does it matter if I have a boyfriend? It's not a _date_."

Ginny raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "It sounds like a date."

"It's not."

"It's Saturday _night_."

"_It's not a date._"

"Draco won't see it like that."

Hermione set down her fork and stared levelly at Ginny, who shrugged. "I'll have you know," she said calmly, "Draco actually has no emotions."

Ginny snorted.

"Seriously," Hermione snapped irritably, reaching over to grab at the jug of juice. "Never gets jealous. Never seems to care. Barely smiles, even at me. So why suddenly will he care that I'm going out to dinner with Viktor?"

"You're going out to dinner with Viktor?" Ron's disgusted voice sounded from behind Hermione.

Sighing irritably, Hermione clenched out through her teeth, "Yes."

Harry sat beside Hermione. "Like a date?"

"No!" Hermione stood up, leaving her half-finished plate of eggs on the table as she stalked away. "It's _not a date_!"

"Whatever you say, Hermione."

* * *

"It's not a date, though."

Draco stared at Hermione through narrowed, gleaming eyes as she crossed her legs and situated herself against the fireplace. "Viktor Krum?" he said impassively.

Hermione pressed her lips together. "He wants to catch up. You know, see how I've been doing."

"What's wrong with like, going for a tea?" Draco asked, still straight-faced. "Or... letters."

"Because," Hermione started, then shrugged. "He suggested it."

Unblinking gray eyes bore into Hermione. She blinked. "Fine," Draco sniffed, turning away to sink into the couch and pull his book up to his nose. "Go."

The seconds that trickled by after that comment seemed unnaturally long. Hermione glanced to her side to evaluate the stack of books she needed to peruse, but her eyes kept flicking back to the shiny blond head.

At a harsh flip of a page, Hermione jumped, but Draco didn't say anything so she pursed her lips and picked at her stack, trying to find the most interesting one to start with.

_"Draco won't see it like that."_

_ Apparently, _Hermione thought, _he does._ Suddenly, she was irritated. _Shouldn't_ he care? Shouldn't he care that she was going out to dinner with an old fling? How come he didn't care? Didn't he care about her? What was his problem?

Perhaps he felt her glares, because Draco took that moment to make eye contact with Hermione. "What," he said flatly.

Hermione huffed. "Nothing."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"I have to go to bed," Hermione murmured, standing up. Draco glanced at the clock, but stayed silent as Hermione walked away. She walked a little too slow, hoping he'd say something, but as she turned back to look at him his nose was still buried in his book.

* * *

"You're still going?" Ginny asked disapprovingly, as she and Hermione trekked to the side of the lake, where they intended to relax and enjoy the one good day out of the week. "Does Draco know?"

"Of course he knows," Hermione said, "and he doesn't seem to mind, so yes, I'm going."

Ginny opened her mouth, and then closed it. Finally: "He doesn't care?"

"That's what I said," Hermione hissed, trying and failing to look nonchalant. "He doesn't care."

"He should."

"Why do I even care if he cares? It's not like I made these plans to make him jealous! It's not like I thought, 'oh Draco will hate this' when I accepted Viktor's offer! But - but..."

"But now that he doesn't care, that's all you can focus on," Ginny said gently, and Hermione slumped on the grass and groaned.

"It's not even that I would like it better if he was insanely jealous. I wouldn't gloat or anything, or shove it in his face..." Hermione couldn't help but to continue her musings aloud as Ginny pulled a peach from her bag and bit into it.

"Ask again?"

"No," Hermione said, sighing. "If he truly doesn't care, then that's fine. Draco Malfoy has no emotions."

Ginny tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "I think Draco has plenty of emotions. Maybe he just doesn't show it. Maybe," she said, looking directly into Hermione's eyes, "you miss them."

A little offended, Hermione leaned back on her elbows. "How could I miss them?"

"Maybe not," Ginny sighed, gazing up at the sky now. "I think he's just an expert at hiding them. It's your duty to bring them out."

"Bring out his jealousy?"

"Not just that, but his happiness," Ginny said seriously. "His confusions, his anger, his hurt… he bottles them up and that can't be good."

Hermione played with a piece of grass between her fingers. "And how do I do that?"

Ginny smiled playfully. "Just be his girlfriend."

* * *

It had been a quiet rest of the week.

Saturday night, Hermione twisted her hair back into a loose braid, before smoothing out her dress and smiling at the mirror. _Perfect,_ she thought, twirling slowly.

Hermione walked out of her room into the common room shared by the Heads, and sure enough, Draco was sitting by the fireplace and scrawling something down on a piece of parchment. Clearing her throat slightly, Hermione walked unsteadily over to Draco in her high-heeled shoes and sat across from him. He glanced up briefly, before looking back at her in absolute disbelief.

"You're wearing that to dinner?" he snapped.

"Hmm?" Hermione asked, looking down at her outfit. "Yes. Why not?"

Draco seemed to struggle for a moment, before gritting out, "Looks nice."

"Thanks."

He sat there glowering at her for a moment, and Hermione felt a little guilty. He _was_ jealous, and judging by the sparks that kept flying out the end of his wand, insanely so. It didn't make Hermione feel good, and she smiled slightly, deciding to put him out of his misery.

"Do you like the blue?" she asked, getting up and teetering over to Draco, sitting down, practically in his lap. Draco sighed.

"Yeah."

"It matches your eyes," Hermione murmured. Those eyes slid over to meet hers.

"It does."

Reaching into her clutch, Hermione pulled out a matching silk tie. She held it up to Draco's eyes, and grinned. "Well, put this on and let's go!"

There was a moment of stunned silence in which Draco's mouth fell open a bit.

"I cancelled with Viktor," Hermione said, "Ron and Harry are going instead. You know, they'll enjoy it a whole lot more than I would."

Draco's eyes appeared slightly glassy, and Hermione leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Come on and get ready," she said, and Draco's mouth twitched. The corners turned up marginally, and Hermione blinked as he landed a small kiss on her nose.

He wasn't beaming, or even saying anything, but as Hermione watched those light eyes stare into hers, she knew exactly what he was feeling, and she felt it too. Ginny was right.

Draco did indeed have emotions, and with a wonderful sense of anticipation, Hermione couldn't wait to experience them all.

* * *

**How did you like it so far? I plan on making a _ton_ of short one-shots depicting a whole bunch of different scenarios for different emotions... as in, I have an outline of about 50 of them. Sigh. I'll be busy the next few weeks. Good thing it's spring break!**

**Cheers,  
Glalie773**


	2. Pessimism

Chapter 2: Pessimism

* * *

Hermione quickly put down the _Prophet_, anxiously scanning the Hall for a blonde head. No sight of Draco at the moment, but he usually rolled out of bed around 7:30, and it was already almost 8.

Glancing briefly down, Hermione sipped at her tea, feeling disgust rise up within her. _Slimy rats with nothing better to write_, Hermione thought with revulsion, narrowing her eyes at the column. Absolutely disgusting.

"Hi."

Ah, so he had read it already. Or heard about it. Tossing the paper aside with what she hoped was casualness, Hermione smiled up at Draco and her eyes crinkled at his messy hair. She affectionately ruffled it a little as he sat down beside her. Draco sighed.

A thin arm reached out and grabbed a blueberry muffin, and Hermione watched with tight lips as Draco sat in silence, picking at the muffin, breaking it into small pieces that she doubted he would eat.

Deciding it was probably best for him to say something first, Hermione picked up her mug of pumpkin juice and took a sip, although she could barely taste the sweetness.

"Why?" Draco finally said, after about fifteen minutes of silence. "The war is over. Why can't people leave me alone?" His voice was quiet; Hermione almost missed a few of the words.

She sneakily looked back at the paper, which was resting just right where she could read the first few lines again, even though she had eyed the article so many times it was practically memorized.

_Draco Malfoy – Son of Lucius, Through and Through_

_Draco Malfoy was seen yesterday shopping around Hogsmeade, near Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He ducked into Killigan's Books, a place known for its darker topics and wicked teachings. Is the son of Lucius Malfoy attempting to avenge his mother and father's deaths? What will-_

Hermione became suddenly aware of the constant tapping next to her; turning her head, she saw Draco staring blankly into the empty air, spoon clicking against his cup in a forced rhythm. Gently, she put her hand over his. The clinking stopped.

"I'll never convince anyone," Draco whispered. "Everyone still remembers me by my father. By who I was associated with. The mistakes I've made. Nobody can look past that."

"I can," Hermione said firmly. "I have. Harry has. McGonagall has. A lot of people have."

Draco's eyes swung over to meet hers, and for a split second, Hermione was scared at the intensity she saw within them. "For the rest of my life," Draco spat, "I'll be hated by the majority of the world. I get stares wherever I go. Kids start crying when they recognize me. I can't go into public anymore. I get fucking _articles_ written about me when I try to shop for your _birthday present_. I shouldn't have been pardoned from Azkaban; it would have been kinder to lock me up."

Hermione's hand stopped rubbing at his wrist. "My birthday present?"

"I'd rather be dead right now," Draco hissed, fists clenching. "I don't want to live anymore, not if everyone will treat me like I'm a monster who'll eat their children alive. I don't _want to be here._"

"Stop it," Hermione whispered, looking around to see if anyone was watching Draco. Luckily, his outbursts were going unnoticed, as few people usually woke up when the couple did. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that." Draco glared down at the table. Hermione's eyes turned into slits. "Don't shame your mother."

Jaw tight, Draco stood up, thoroughly ignoring Hermione, though she took it as a good sign that he didn't shake her off as she slipped her hand into his.

They walked to the grounds, where Draco jerked his hand out of hers and glowered out at the lake. Hermione stopped a few steps behind him, feeling nothing but helpless. There wasn't anything she could do. He was right; the respect of the world would be almost impossible to achieve.

He had lost.

But even so… Hermione watched silently as Draco kicked at a newborn tree nearby, nearly snapping it in half with his heavy boots. Enraged curses flew by her ears and sighing, Hermione stepped forward and touched his shoulder gently.

He seemed to deflate at her touch, and Draco flopped down on the cold ground and buried his face into his knees.

"I don't want to be here," he said yet again. Hermione paused.

"Where do you want to be?"

"I don't want to _exist_," came the correction, and Hermione felt her eyes burn with the anticipation of tears. No matter what the world thought, no matter what his father did and the mistakes he'd made, there was no crueler punishment than shunning an eighteen-year-old boy.

Hermione rubbed slow circles on Draco's back, and finally, his breathes became quieter and more evenly spaced.

"You know," she said, voice quiet. "You don't know the people. They don't know you. They're spineless, unable to find something else to do with their time than chase after you; you're one of the few left they can take their anger out on. They don't matter. They _don't. _But you know who does? I do. The students here do; they've accepted you again. McGonagall does, look at all she's done for you. The ones around you matter, not the ones you don't even know."

Draco looked up and rested his chin on the point of his knee, gazing off into the distance. Across the lake, Hermione faintly saw the tip of a tentacle rising up and catching a bird mid-air.

Seeing that the blonde's face was still unconvinced, Hermione leaned forward a bit and placed a kiss on his trembling lips.

"You're right," Draco said, voice raw. "They don't matter."

Hermione smiled gently. "Of course they don't."

A sigh. "I still don't want to be here," Draco grumbled, and Hermione's smile slipped.

"You don't?" Of course he was still upset… A kiss couldn't possibly heal him that fast-

"No," Draco murmured, standing up and brushing himself off. Reaching a hand out to Hermione, he hauled her to her feet and kissed her forehead once, twice. "Today's your birthday, and we shouldn't be sitting out here all morning."

Shrugging, Hermione allowed Draco to pull her back toward the castle. Who cared about her birthday? She had successfully made Draco Malfoy a tad happier for the day, and that smile was the only present she needed.

"I'm trying," Draco said softly, not looking at her as they traipsed across the grass. Hermione's lips turned up at the corners.

"And that's all I ask for."

What a perfect birthday.

* * *

Next up: Guilt


	3. Guilt

**Chapter 3: Guilt**

* * *

With fumbling hands, Hermione unfolded her parchment and eyed the paper, eyes zooming to the upper right corner, where a small _100_ was scrawled in dark ink.

Ah.

Damn professors, passing back exams and papers at the _end_ of the class, making it virtually impossible for Hermione to relax during that time. Even though she knew her grade was there, permanently stamped and somewhere in that stack of papers, even though she knew that worrying and nibbling at her nails wasn't going to change anything…. Hermione sighed, folding up the test and smiling across the room at Draco. He offered a small smile back.

As the bell dinged to signal the end of class, Hermione rushed over to the blonde. "I got a perfect score!" she beamed, and Draco's white teeth flashed at her.

"Oh, congratulations!"

"What did you get?" Hermione asked.

"Ninety-five."

"Bloody geniuses," a mumbled voice sounded from behind them. Turning slightly, Hermione watched in veiled amusement as Ron scrunched up his exam in disgust and set it on fire. "I got a seventy-two."

"Harry?" Hermione asked, turning to her other friend. Harry smiled, and shrugged. "Same as you, Hermione."

"Perfect Potter," Draco murmured, "always the top at Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry and Draco eyed each other for a moment, before Harry said quietly, "You got a ninety-five?"  
"Yes," Draco said, somewhat defensively. Hermione grabbed at his hand. "So what?"

Harry shrugged, and Draco allowed Hermione to tug him away, out the door.

"I'm glad I can stop worrying about that," she sighed happily, "that is, until the next exam, three weeks from now."

Hermione frowned as Draco seemed to force out a laugh. "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

"Just tired."

Hermione wasn't daft, but she let it go for the moment. Draco didn't seem too particularly keen on talking, so instead she smiled a bright grin and blabbered on about something unimportant.

However, the look in his eyes almost made Hermione pause multiple times. He looked so utterly _down_ it was hard to continue smiling so brightly.

"Okay, so what's wrong?" Hermione asked at dinnertime, spearing a green bean with her fork. Draco looked at her in surprise.

"Nothing," he said, and Hermione would've believed him if she hadn't witnessed the misery in the morning.

"Hmm," was all Hermione said. Draco was the sort of person who liked to talk about things, surprisingly. However, he did not like to volunteer information first; Hermione had the inkling he thought it was weak. So, she supposed it was up to her to figure out what went wrong that day. Chewing thoughtfully, Hermione eyed Draco, relaying the hours back.

He was fine for breakfast; he had no trouble scarfing down four waffles and half a jug of pumpkin juice… Arithmancy was fine; Draco slept through the entire thing, which was normal behavior… Lunch was fine… Defense Against the Dark Arts was fine…

Wait.

"What did you get again? For your Defense exam?"  
Bingo. Draco's spine stiffened immediately, and a blank expression dominated his features.

A pause.

"Ninety-five," Draco finally said, and Hermione nodded.

"What did you get wrong? Maybe I can help for the -"

"I don't remember," Draco interrupted, "and I have to go. Homework time." He stood up abruptly, grabbing at his coat and very nearly bolting out the Great Hall.

Hermione let him go.

He was lying, definitely. But _why_ was the question.

Someone slid in on the bench next to Hermione. "Boy troubles?" 

"I suppose you could call it that," Hermione murmured. "Not sure what exactly is the situation though."

Harry looked off into the distance, where Draco moments before had exited almost at a sprint. "What's up with him?"  
"He's lying for some reason about his grade on his test," Hermione replied. "I mean, I think he is. He's being shady about _something_."

"He probably got a low score and is embarrassed to tell his genius girlfriend," Harry teased. Hermione frowned.

"It's not like I'd _judge_ him or anything," she said, upset. "He doesn't need to lie about that."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Maybe he's actually not even smart, and he fails _everything_, and he's been lying about every grade _this whole time_ –"

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted, aghast. She paused. "Do you really think so?"

Choking on his laughter, Harry rolled his eyes. "C'mon Hermione, you can't believe that. I'm no great fan of Draco but I at least know he can pull his weight in classes…."

"But – but – I've never seen his papers in person, he just says the grade, and – and he looked so uncomfortable today!"

Harry's smirked. "You honestly believe Draco's lying about _every _grade he's gotten? What, nobody can be as smart as you?"

"No! I just… well, what other reason can you come up with on why he's so uneasy with his grades?"

"Grade, Hermione, singular. You're jumping to conclusions!"

Hermione sighed. "Maybe I am."

Harry looked thoughtful. "But… if you really wanted to know… Just go through his folder."

"_What?! _You're insane!"

"I mean, he has all his exams in one folder, it wouldn't be that hard –"

"I _can't, _it's – he does?"

Harry chortled.

"This is so wrong to talk about," Hermione said, clutching at her face.

"But I'm curious too," Harry said. "I've noticed he acts weird about his grades. Especially Defense, have you noticed that?"

_No, but now that you mention it…_ Hermione chewed on her lip.

"I have a plan," Harry said with relish.

Hermione sighed.

* * *

"What is it?" Hermione asked for the umpteenth time, trailing next to Harry as they walked down the corridor. "Harry!"

"You'll see," Harry said, and his grin grew wide. Hermione looked over to see a blond head making its way toward them.

"I have a feeling you're enjoying this too much."

"I want to call out Draco on something," Harry hissed. "He's too perfect!"  
It was almost funny, how intense Harry's face was.

Hermione sighed.

As Draco approached them, Hermione suddenly realized how miserable her boyfriend looked. That was even an understatement… he looked so thoroughly depressed that Hermione felt a pang.

"Hi," she said softly, and Draco mumbled something in reply, avoiding her gaze. Hermione opened her mouth to say something else when Harry forcefully bumped into Draco, effectively knocking everything out of his grasp.

_That was your plan?_ Hermione silently raged, immediately falling to her knees with the other two boys to begin collecting the papers. The first one she picked up was the last Arithmancy exam.

Ninety-seven.

The second paper was a Potions paper.

Ninety-two.

_This is ridiculous_, Hermione realized immediately. Evidently, the A's scattered around the floor were quite obviously well-deserved, and with a sort of crushing feeling, Hermione looked into Draco's light eyes, only to be surprised by the stricken look on his face.

Draco grabbed at something in Hermione's hand, and she looked down, somewhat slowly, to see the latest Defense exam.

Sixty?

"You did lie," Hermione said, a little startled that even though they had gone through such great lengths to expose Draco… they were actually somewhat correct. "How… how did you get a sixty?" Almost involuntarily, Hermione glanced around the small pile on the floor, and another Defense test caught her eye.

Seventy-four.

Hermione looked up at Draco's face, suddenly fearing she'd be staring into hateful eyes. Instead, she saw watery red ones, and a guilt-ridden expression to go along with it. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it.

"I… I'm failing Defense Against the Dark Arts," Draco said quietly, shame written all over his face. Hermione suddenly wished she never doubted him, never mentioned it to Harry, never had to see that humiliation all over his pale face.

Harry began quietly picking up the rest of the papers, now not looking at any of them. Hermione sat back, swallowing.

"But… how?" she managed.

Draco looked away. "I'm sorry for lying. I'm so sorry."

"That doesn't matter," Hermione said firmly. "What's done is done."

"No," Draco said desperately, "you said never to lie to you! You made me _promise_, and I broke that!"

Hermione noticed Harry shifting uncomfortably beside them, but there was nothing that could fix that unless he awkwardly left.

"I – it's fine," Hermione insisted, but Draco's lower lip trembled. Alarmed, Hermione looked at Harry, who stared wordlessly back at her.

_I didn't know he had a conscience,_ Harry's face seemed to read, and Hermione almost agreed.

"It's fine," Hermione said again. "But why are you failing? That's more important."

A pause. Draco flushed a deep red. He inhaled deeply. "I could pass with a hundred… but I don't want to."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

Draco swung his gaze back at her, and his expression seemed to intensify. "I could describe very accurately answer an essay question on how the Cruciatus curse works and what it does to a person, but do you think _I want to fucking describe that?"_

Hermione's hand suddenly went to her neck, where a very faint scar lay.

Of course. He'd rather leave all the questions blank than answer the questions that he knew all too well. The spells he performed himself. The ones who were performed on the people he cared about.

Hermione was at a loss for words.

"I lied to you," Draco sighed, looking defeated. "I betrayed you. I don't know how you can forgive me."

Hermione was at more of a loss for words.

"You… you don't have your priorities straight," she said. Harry chuckled.

* * *

"I talked to McGonagall."  
Hermione smiled up at Draco, who looked at her somewhat sheepishly. "What did she say?" she asked.

"I could take some time off Defense if I want to, or I could try to work my hardest."

"Which are you going to do?" Hermione said quietly. Draco looked away.

"I said I'd probably take some time off."

Hermione nodded. "That seems like a good idea. There's no reason to make you suffer through it."

Draco looked slightly relieved, as if he thought she'd be disappointed that he didn't tough out the class.

"I'm sorry for lying."

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Really, you _don't_ have your priorities straight."

* * *

Next up: Spontaneous!


	4. Spontaneity

**Spontaneity**

Hermione clicked her quill against the desk, feeling a bead of sweat roll down her back. _Honestly_, what bloody idiot "accidentally" set off a spell to cause the entire floor to be sweltering hot?

How irritating.

Beside her, Harry was wiping at his forehead, groaning quietly. "It's too hot," he murmured, and Hermione just looked out the window in response. Even the cool breeze that blew in every so often was stamped down by the extreme heat.

Slowly, Hermione's eyes went to the large clock above the door. Ten more minutes. _Might as well be an hour. I feel like I've been in here for half of my day._

The seconds ticked on painfully.

Hermione usually enjoyed History of Magic, despite it being a rather unpopular class with other students, but today she was just not feeling it. It was, goddammit, _too hot_.

And it was _October_.

Just as Hermione's quill slipped from her sweaty fingers, Professor Binns waved them out the door. She was nearly crushed in the stampede out into the hallway to reach the open corridor just a few steps away, and Hermione slunk off to the side, letting the panicked, sweaty rush run before her.

"Hey," a voice said from behind her.

"Hey," Hermione replied, pulling her curly hair away from her face. Frowning, she unstuck one stubborn strand from her forehead and wound it back into a ponytail.

"Anymore classes for today?" Draco asked pleasantly, looking frustratingly cool and comfortable in his shirt and tie. His class must have been on the floor below.

"Nope," Hermione replied, relieved. "I'm all done."

"Great," Draco said, reaching out a hand. "So, remember that time last week when you were upset? You missed home and such?"

Hermione nodded absentmindedly as they walked down the path to the center of the middle quad. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Well…" Draco hesitated, and Hermione saw that his cheeks were beginning to have a pink undertone. "How about a little trip?"

"A trip?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Where?"

They reached the gates that led into Hogwarts. Draco stepped precisely over the threshold, and squeezed Hermione's hand. "Chippenham?"

Before Hermione had a chance to respond, darkness surrounded her and a crushing sensation burned through her chest. Airless, Hermione struggled to choke, and then a split second later, it was over.

Hermione fell to her knees on plushy, bright green grass. Looking up and rubbing at her throat, she saw what she assumed to be… Chippenham.

"Do you know where we are?" Draco asked her, looking rather intensely down at her. Hermione took in the scenery, the clear air, and the birds flying above.

"I don't know much about here," she said quietly, somehow feeling that this place was significant. "We're in… Wiltshire, is it?"

"Yes," Draco said, pulling her to her feet. "This, in fact, is where I spent most of my childhood."

Wiltshire.

The Malfoy Manor.

Hermione's hands clenched slightly, and she said Draco fidget. "Don't worry," he assured quietly. We're not going… there."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked, feeling somehow at ease. "Compared to here, I mean."

Draco smiled down at her. "Somewhere nearby."

"Chippenham," Hermione said slowly, remembering one piece of information she read about in a book. "Isn't that notorious in Wiltshire for being predominantly _Muggle_?"

Shrugging, Draco led her down a wide cobblestone path. "True. The Malfoy Manor, however, lies just on the edge of Chippenham. _That_ side houses many of the oldest Pureblood families. But looking at Wiltshire as a whole, yes, it's mostly Muggles."

"So you live in a pocket," Hermione mused, fascinated. "I take it the Muggles are mostly in the center of town, while you and the other purebloods are in a more rural area?"

Draco smiled again. "Yes. After all, we need the room."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione allowed Draco to tug her to a bench in what looked to be a small park. A crystal clear pond was ten meters to her right. The trees, plentiful and flourishing, whistled with the slight wind and glowed a soft orange.

"This place is beautiful," Hermione said. Draco's hand tightened around hers.

"I hoped you'd enjoy it," he said. "It's a big but quiet town. And it has a remarkable history with my family."

"_Does_ it," Hermione asked, intrigued.

"When the Dark Lord fell back when we were mere toddlers," Draco started, picking a leaf out of Hermione's hair, "there was a mad race to save your own skin. Purebloods, especially notable Death Eaters like my family had to make amends, and quickly. My father still despised Muggle-borns and Muggles, but grudgingly accepted when my mother placed me in what I presume to be… elementary school."

"_What_?" Hermione exclaimed, shocked. "You went to a Muggle school?"

"Barely," Draco sniffed, "I was there for two years, not even. As soon as my father had somewhat of a standing in society, he whisked me out of the Muggle world and demanded that my mother teach me my family history and our supremacy over others instead."

"I see."

Draco nodded, looking out at a small family of ducks paddling their way to the edge of the pond. Hermione let him sit for a moment, reveling in what she learned.

"In a way," Draco said suddenly, startling Hermione, "I feel like a Muggle education is beneficial to young, influential students. I learned much of my basic skills in those two years, and I doubt that my mother could've made much of an impact on me had I schooled with her."

"That's an interesting concept," Hermione said, "I wonder what would come about if there was research on the effects of Muggle schooling early on."  
Draco smiled wryly. "Maybe it has no effect. Dean Thomas isn't the sharpest tool in the shed."

"Aren't you going to show me around?" Hermione asked, and Draco looked at her.

"No," he said simply. "I'm not."

Seeing as how Draco never seemed to hold back on blunt questions, Hermione decided to take a leaf out of his book. "And why not?"

"Because I haven't visited this part of town since I was ten," Draco said, "and I don't plan on going back. I don't deserve to step a foot father into this town."

Hermione closed her mouth, which had been slightly open. Draco locked eyes with her, icy blue on dark brown.

"My father and aunt killed two children here," Draco said. "Muggles, of course. They had been picking on me after school one day. I made the mistake of telling my mother, and my father overheard. Next thing I knew, they were killed.

"Everyone thought it was a tragic accident. They drowned in the stream right by my school. Nobody, of course, had any suspicion of me or my family. To them, we were Muggles. They had no idea that magic existed, and their memories erased. They had no idea that just the night before, they had watched two little children being tortured and ripped apart by my father's wrath. I remember the words he spoke when he came home that night. 'Filthy, filthy scum. If I could, I'd skin them all alive myself'."

Hermione felt bile rise up in her throat. She swallowed quickly, feeling the bitter burn slide back down. Draco glanced at her. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, feeling a new sense of animosity. "I don't want to know the murders your father committed. I thought this was supposed to be for _me_. I thought you wanted to take me here because I missed my Muggle life. Why are you doing this to me?"

Draco looked stricken. "It was meant to be that. I was going to take you out to dinner. I was going to do whatever it is that Muggles do in their free time. It was meant to be a surprise. But…." He trailed off, looking desperate. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

Hermione stared at her feet. A surprise.

Suddenly, Hermione felt like a monster. He had been trying to tell her about his past. Albeit probably the wrong way, but she was positive she was the only one he had ever opened his mouth to about his childhood. And she had gotten _mad_ at him for it. He wanted to open up to her, something that she had wanted him to do since he first kissed her on the forehead.

A surprise.

"A surprise?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Draco didn't reply. Hermione shivered; it had gotten colder during their talk.

"I suppose I haven't quite gotten the hang of being spontaneous," Draco said dully, finally. Hermione laughed quietly.

"No, but I'd hear your stories any day over some flowers I could buy myself," she replied. She saw Draco smile.

"Well then," he said grandly. "How about we go to a nice dinner then? And something else that you can pick because I quite frankly don't have any idea what to do."

Hermione thought for a moment. "I have a surprise for _you_, then," she said mischievously. Draco blinked.

"What is it?"

"Have you ever had fast food?"

* * *

Next up: Grateful!

With an appearance of a lovely Narcissa Malfoy!


End file.
